


Into The Woods

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Belly Rubs, Captive Dean Winchester, Gen, Hunt Gone Wrong, Hurt Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester Takes Care of Dean Winchester, Tied-Up Dean Winchester, Tortured Dean Winchester, belly torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 18:56:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17986760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Dean wasn’t expecting to come up against a Cyclops, or a hungry one, when he went looking for an explanation into some missing people.He also wasn’t expecting to end up on the menu, or for anything that came next.





	Into The Woods

That, Dean decided, was not something you saw every damn day.

Luckily.

He ducked lower behind the fallen trunk, watching as the cyclops stomped into view, one wide red eye scanning the forest with a baleful glare.

It was about twice his height, thick as some of the trees around them, and wearing (just to teach Dean not to base any expectations off of _Sinbad_ ) a plaid shirt loose over a plain black tee and a pair of denims, topped off by the biggest pair of walking boots he’d ever seen.

Yeah, definitely not something you saw every day.

But it was holding a dead body, little more than a bloody, pulverised sack of meat and bones, and dragging it along the forest floor.

Dean looked at the angel blade in his hand, and wished he hadn’t bowed to Sam’s health and safety concerns and took the grenade launcher out of the trunk.

He wasn’t in the mood for any David and Goliath shit, but here he was.

Nobody else was dying tonight.

++

Sam dumped his duffel on the floor when he got in the room, frowning when he saw it was empty.

“Dean?”

But this brother wasn’t in the toilet, and Sam grabbed his phone to check the time Dean had sent his last text, saying he was just pulling up outside the woods.

It had been just over an hour ago, and that should have been enough time to find whatever was snatching up people passing by, or in some cases through, the woods here, and making sure they were never seen again.

They didn’t actually have a clue what that was, but with an angel blade and a trunk full of various weapons, Sam was pretty sure Dean had something along that would do the job of killing it.

Except he wasn’t back.

Sam dialled Dean’s number, growing more worried as all he got was a ringing tone, and then it went to voicemail.

That wasn’t a good sign.

He grabbed his duffel back from the floor and went outside to the parking lot.

Cas’s truck was just cooling down, and Sam stuffed his duffel in the back. He considered calling Cas to tell him something was up, but right now the angel had his hands full back at the bunker; the last thing Cas needed was distraction, especially since he was too far away to do any good.

No, better to wait until he had Dean back with him, and anyway…

Maybe Dean was fine and the hunt was just taking longer than they’d thought.

++

Dean strained against the ropes holding him spreadeagled on the forest floor, ignoring the sharp pain as his muscles protested.

It was useless, anyway; the ropes held tight and the pegs were buried so deep he had no chance of working them loose.

The cyclops had dragged him there, tied him down, and then turned his attention to a huge cooking pot he’d set up over a large fire.

Dean felt his gorge rise at the stink coming from it, but then he’d watched the cyclops dump the body he was carrying in there; at least, he supposed, he knew what cooking dead human flesh smelt like, though that was a fact he could have lived without.

“I’m glad you came,” the cyclops said. “Soup was looking pretty thin up until then.”

He had a massive tree limb that he was using as a spoon, stirring the contents of the pot. 

“But it’s not now. Gotta do some work on you first, though. Humans are too chewy just to eat as they come.”

He got up, and came over to stand next to him.

“You could always _not_ eat me,” Dean suggested.

The cyclops doubled over suddenly, as if in pain, but then a great booming laugh echoed around them. When the noise stopped and the cyclops straightened up, a huge fat tear dropped from its eye, splatting to the ground.

“Don’t eat me,” it chortled. “Humans. You’re so funny.”

It dropped to kneel down beside Dean and tore open his tee shirt.

“Hey,” Dean snapped. “What the hell are you doing?”

The cyclops sighed. “Funny, but dumb. Chewy, remember? I need to tenderise the meat first.”

++

Sam found Baby parked just on the forest outskirts, engine cold, and that could not be a good sign.

He did a quick check of the trunk, and saw that Dean had taken his angel blade, and it looked like the sawn off shotgun with the box containing a variety of rounds.

That would be a back up, though; the only thing the seraph blades didn’t kill was archangels, so far as they knew.

And that was a worry; it meant Dean had either run into something else the angel blades didn’t affect, or just hadn’t had the chance to use it.

Or had been outnumbered.

Sam closed the trunk and went back to his own ride. Under the bench seat in the back, Cas had built up an arsenal of his own; on their insistence he’d included conventional human weapons as well as the ones he was more used to as an angel, and supernatural weapons it just wasn’t safe for a human to wield.

Those were wrapped in warded cloth, and Sam carefully set them aside as he looked to see what else Cas had put in there.

When he spotted something familiar but shockingly out of place, he wanted to curse Dean out for being able to influence Cas so easily.

It wasn’t safe to stow a grenade launcher in Cas’s truck, either.

++

Dean couldn’t breathe.

The cyclops had one huge hand on his stomach, pressing slowly in, and the pain and sense of crushing was building.

Just when he thought something would burst, the cyclops backed off.

“See,” it said, “the trick is not to actually damage you. I mean, fatally. I misjudged it once, and the spleen was all squishy, and that just ruined it. So, you need to careful. Not too little. Not too much.”

He slapped Dean’s bared tummy, hard, then did it again, and again, like he was learning the drums or some shit, and Dean wanted to scream.

“Too much,” he panted, but the cyclops gave him a final slap, before prodding at the reddened flesh.

“Look at that,” he said. “See, that’s the pattern you’re looking for. Yeah. Anyway, then the meat has to settle before we do some more.”

He got up and went back to stirring the pot, and Dean lay there and tried to ignore the fire searing through him, worsened every time he tried to take a breath.

++

Grenade launchers weren’t light even for him, but Sam made a fair pace as he headed further into the forest, following Dean’s tracks.

If he’d hauled the thing all that way for nothing, he might just shoot Dean with it, especially since he just realised he’d been driving Cas’s truck for two days not knowing that beast was under the back seat.

When he did find his brother, he’d be having words about expecting either he or Cas to travel in any vehicle with a grenade launcher (and actual grenades) on board.

But when he saw the massive footprint, nearly on top of one of Dean’s, knowing his brother’s tracks and having followed them from the car, he wondered if maybe Dean had regretted not taking the damn thing along himself.

++

“Please, please, fucking stop!”

Dean jerked helplessly at his restraints as the cyclops added another rock to the pile already sitting on his stomach; individually, they weren’t so heavy, but each one added had made Dean feel like his stomach was being pressed hard against his spine, and that as a whole he was being sunk into the ground.

“Steady pressure,” the cyclops explained, and Dean could have lived without the step by step recipe. “Another couple ought to do it.”

Another couple, Dean thought, and something was going to rupture.

“You’re the one…. you’re the one who didn’t want anything squashed, right?”

The cyclops paused, looking down to the stones already pressing on Dean’s stomach.

Fuck, it was getting near impossible to breathe.

“Waste of a good human,” the cyclops said.

“Yeah, well, something’s gonna burst if you don’t stop.”

There was almost a look of concern on the creature’s face as it leaned in. “You’re not lying to me, are you? Because I don’t like it when my food lies to me.”

Holy actual fuck.

“No,” Dean grated out. “I’m not...I’m not lying to you.”

The cyclops looked thoughtfully down at him, and then started lifting the rocks one by one.

Dean sucked in air as the pressure lessened but the pain didn’t let up. He groaned when the cyclops leaned in closer, and pressed a giant ear against his tender flesh.

“Mmm...can’t hear anything out of sorts, but better safe than sorry, I suppose. Anyway, now we get to the best bit!”

He reached back, and picked up a cudgel about the size and thickness of Dean’s leg.

“Now I need to tenderise the rest of you.”

He hefted it over his head, and Dean tried to jerk away, but there was nowhere to go, this was it, and then a deafening roar came from nowhere and the night seemed to catch fire.

The cyclop’s head exploded, showering Dean with blood and bone shrapnel and what, if he looked closely (which, no way) he was sure he’d see was brain matter.

Luckily for him the creature toppled sideways and not forward, or that would have taken care of the last of the tenderising.

Sam came running to him, then, dumping the grenade launcher, and falling to his knees next to his brother.

“Holy shit, Dean,” he panted. “Are you okay? What the hell was that?”

Dean whined as Sam starting cutting away the ropes, causing them to rub against his already torn skin. “Long story. Just get me the hell out of here.”

++

Sam lowered his brother carefully down on to the motel room bed. Every movement seemed to cause him pain, but he had furiously refused Sam’s suggestion of the nearest E.R.

Looking down at his bare stomach, though he still thought an actual doctor would be best, Sam could see why.

Even between the mottled marks from the stones, it was easy to see the shape of a giant hand on Dean’s torso. There’d be no mistaking the outline of thumb and fingers, or the swell of flesh above the wrist.

And Dean had assured him the cyclops had been _careful_ , as if that was meant to reassure.

For now, then, until Cas could reach them (Dean was furious when he found out Sam had called the angel, but Sam tuned out his complaints) Sam would do his best to make Dean comfortable.

He was gentle, but even so as he carefully felt his way along Dean’s stomach, feeling for anything too hard or too soft, his brother bunched his fingers in the sheets and cursed loudly and often.

Nothing felt so bad that Sam reached for his phone to call an ambulance, but he knew Dean would be in a lot of pain until help came.

And the typical hunter cure of pain killers and booze was not a good idea in this instance.

But Sam knew a good alternative, and grabbed a shirt from his duffel and went along to the ice machine on the corner. 

Dean gave him a glare when he came back, and hissed as Sam carefully tied the shirt off, forming a plaid bag of ice, and rested it carefully over his stomach.

It gave him some relief, and Sam watched him carefully as he started to relax.

“Fucking cyclops,” Dean muttered. “Just as well I got Cas to start packing the grenade launcher, huh?”

Sam eyed him. “Yeah, we’ll be talking about that when we get home.”

But maybe not too much, since if the launcher hadn’t been in Cas’s truck, Sam knew they’d both have likely ended up in that creature’s cooking pot.

When the ice was seriously melting, Sam took his shirt, and dumped it in the bath, and then stretched out next to his brother.

Dean turned gingerly onto his side so he could tuck in against Sam, groaning a little until Sam reached down and carefully rubbed light circles into Dean’s stomach.

It didn’t seem all _that_ long ago that Dean had done this for him, when stomach flu had him weak and miserable and only his brother’s touch had brought him any relief.

He could feel Dean slipping into sleep, and figured it would be safe enough provided he was kept an eye on.

And then, voice heavy with exhaustion, Dean piped up, “Epic fucking shot, Sammy.”

Sam grinned. 

“For your first time.”


End file.
